


Ferality

by goddessofcruelty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood and Gore, Cousin Incest, Dubious Consent, Evil Deaton, Evil Talia, Evil Talia Hale, Feral Peter, First Time, Forced Orgasm, Implied/Referenced Incest, Licking, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Mind Manipulation, Mindwiping, Minor Derek Hale/Scott McCall, Past Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Wolf Peter Hale, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3609993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter doesn't react for a long minute and Chris wonders again how much of the wolf is left in there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I thought you said this was the best place for him!” Scott's voice is horrified and his face is tinged green as if he's going to be sick.

Deaton is as calm as always. “It is.”

“But – but they've...” Scott pauses, struggles for words. “I don't even know what they've done to him,” he finishes lamely.

Deaton arches one brow and his gaze slides to Stiles, who's staring at Peter with fascination.

Scott follows the look. “Stiles?”

“Hm? Oh.” Stiles purses his lips. “Put him in with a guy who mindwiped out the bad bits of his personality. Interestingly enough, it seems like there wasn't much else to Peter after all.”

“You knew about this?”

Stiles blinks. “Of course, Scotty, Deaton explained to me how Emissaries have to make certain decisions that the Alphas just can't make.”

Deaton's staring down at the feral Peter. “Maybe _this_ time he won't come back from it.”

Both boys turn to look at him. Deaton shrugs. “Talia and I kept trying to clean the evil from his mind. Maybe the fifth time's the charm.”

Scott grabs a bin and starts to be sick. Stiles looks at Deaton. “Can you show me how?”

-

“I warned you that you couldn't trust the druid.”

“Chris, please, you've got to help him.” Scott is insistent.

“I do? And why does it have to be me?”

“Because he's got no one else.”

Chris snorts. “What about Derek?”

“No one can find him.”

-

“You sure he should be in a cage?” Scott looks dubiously at the setup in Chris' basement.

“Until I'm sure how much of Peter is still in there, yes.” Chris points out the pillow and blankets. “He'll be comfortable, Scott, but I'm not going to put myself in danger. You focus on finding Derek.”

Scott gives Peter one last look and then leaves the werewolf alone with the hunter.

-

Chris leaves a bowl of water on a tray when he sees Peter stir awake. The wolf is immediately aware of him, and the water. His head lifts and nostrils flare as he moves, but not to reach for it, simply to curl himself up tightly.

“Hey, Peter,” Chris says softly. “That water is for you.”

Peter doesn't react for a long minute and Chris wonders again how much of the wolf is left in there. But then his face turns, and he looks directly at Chris, and if there's a spark of reaction in those cerulean eyes, the hunter can't see it. But there's _something_ , because he lifts his head up and pads over to the bowl.

Chris takes a deep breath. At least it's not as bad as it could have been. Peter drinks half the water and then back away, still watching Chris warily.

“I don't know how much of you is in there, so I'm going to assume you don't remember me at all. I'm Chris, and I'm going to take care of you for a while. The bad men are gone now.”

Silence answers him, so he rises to leave Peter alone, but the wolf makes a tiny noise that – coming from any other creature – he might have called a whimper. Those eyes are still gazing at him as he turns around but there's no other outward sign of distress.

With pursed lips, Chris sits back down in the chair and begins to talk to Peter. He tells the wolf everything he knows about his past, which is surprisingly little for as long as he's known Peter. Peter's still paying attention when he falters on the “..and so Scott brought you here.”

So Chris launches into his own life, talking about moving thorough Beacon Hills as a teenager and meeting Peter, and then moving on from there.

-

It sets a pattern for them. He talks while Peter eats the food that Chris brings him, drinks the drugged water that Chris sets out, and then drifts to sleep. Only when he's fully asleep does Chris open the cage to change out the pillows and blankets. He can't resist patting Peter gently on the head and telling the sleeping wolf that everything is going to be alright.

Gradually Chris steps down the dose, and one night, Peter lifts his head slightly into Chris' touch. He gets more and more physically affectionate, but still remains trapped within himself.

-

Scott calls him once a week to update him on the search for Derek. He found Braeden in Oregon, but they apparently parted ways before Derek left town. He's headed to Alaska following a very thin lead.

-

Peter's only on a one-third dose of the drugs by the time Scott tracks Derek down, and the wolf is in constant contact with Chris when he's in the cage. He wonders if Peter was this touch starved before and just hid it well.

Chris just ignores the cheek rubbing against his thigh as he pushes the scattered pillows into a pile so he can take them upstairs to wash them. Until it's rubbing along his zipper when he turns to grab the blankets, and he has an...uncomfortable physical reaction. He just tries to push Peter away, but the wolf has been getting stronger, and he's fairly insistent, so Chris just sighs and lets him rub his stupid face wherever he wants to while he focuses on getting the linens in a nice pile.

But Chris has been alone for a very long time, and his dick doesn't care who's touching it, just that it's being rubbed again. He starts to leak a bit and he grimaces uncomfortably as the wet spot rubs along his length with the continued pressure from Peter.

“Alright, pup,” he mumbles as he gets everything together. “That's enough, lemme toss this stuff out and grab the new stuff real quick.” Peter's not moving away though, not obedient like he usually is, and Chris has to shove the werewolf away more roughly than he likes, to exchange the bedding. Peter almost looks like he's sulking while he watches Chris set up the new nest, and then he's using his werewolf speed for the first time, catching Chris off-guard and pinning him to the pile of downy softness.

“Oof,” Chris grunts as he's pinned then flopped, and the broad swath of Peter' tongue is sliding along the rough denim of his jeans. “Dammit Peter,” he grumbles, but the wolf is _insistent_ and and his low growls only increase with his frustration at not getting to that scent.

Chris' cock is hard as nails, and the pressure from Peter is starting to hurt anyway, and he's pretty certain Peter just smells the arousal and wants to identify it. Maybe it's bringing back memories.

Chris finds at least five justifications for his actions as he shucks his jeans and pulls his length from the boxers, groaning as it's freed. And then again as the wolf eagerly lowers his mouth to it, sliding along it, and then laving across the leaking tip. Up, along, across and around again in an unrelenting pattern, and yeah it's been a _very_ long time, because Chris is on the edge of coming in no time. And he's trying to hold it back, to just let Peter do whatever he's doing, but Chris is only human and he comes with a strangled shout, spurting along his own abdomen.

Peter is on the fluids immediately, tongue sliding through the stripes of white, licking everywhere until he's got every last taste he can get, then the bastard lays atop Chris and closes his eyes. “Alright, you've had your fun, get off,” Chris rasps and shoves at Peter. The wolf opens one eyes and growls low, which makes Chris freeze, recalling all the times he's seen what happens to those who thwart Peter's will.

So he lays there, still as only a trained hunter can be and waits until he's sure that Peter is sound asleep, then he does his best to wriggle away, but with the way the surprisingly heavy werewolf has him pinned, he's trapped. With a heavy sigh, Chris tries to make the best of his situation, and drifts off to sleep.

-

He wakes to a low continuous growl and blinks bleary eyes to see Derek and Scott staring down at the two of them, Peter crouched in front of him, ostensibly to protect him from the other two.

“Apparently, congratulations are in order,” Derek says with one brow lofted.

“Hm?” Chris grunts intelligently.

“Oh you must have missed the part where Peter claimed you as his mate.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Now what's all this about mates?”

They've distracted Peter with food and water, increasing the dosage, and he's passed out, securely locked away again. Chris has reacquired some pants, and the three are sitting around his kitchen table.

Derek looks uncomfortable. Scott reaches out and rests his hand over Derek's for a moment.

“Often the submissive wolf will lick the dominant wolf to entice them,” Scott says, gaze drifting back to Chris. “Since he's back to basic instincts, it makes sense.”

Chris doesn't hear anything past one single word. “Submissive? _Peter_?” His voice skates the edge of cracking on the werewolf's name. “I find it hard to believe that your uncle is in any way submissive.”

Derek and Scott exchange glances.

“Derek found some journals locked away in another Hale archive.”

Chris looks from one to the other.

“Peter's not my uncle.” Derek's voice has an odd edge to it. “He's my brother.”

“The first time Talia altered his memory, it was to suppress that knowledge from his mind.” Scott takes up the thread of the story as it's now Derek's turn to look green. “She made his mind a repository of her secrets and then locked them inside his head.”

“How many times?” Chris looks dully at Scott.

“Over a dozen,” Scott says softy. “At least.”

“She – ” Derek has to stop and clear his throat. “She had him...eliminate...her enemies, and then hid the memories.”

“Chris,” Scott leans forward. “His mind is fractured. What Valack did was to widen those fractures. Stiles thinks that I can heal it. But,” he looks at Derek again, “it would heal all of them, which would give him the knowledge of everything he's done and who he is.”

Chris is silent for a moment, digesting the information.

Derek continues with the story, his voice leaden. “Peter wasn't her only – ” He can't brings himself to say the word. “Peter wasn't the only one,” he says instead. “She altered my father and Peter's father's minds as well, to hide our parentage.”

Chris looks up at Derek.

“Peter's father is Deucalion.”

It makes perfect sense to Chris now, he can see a multitude of parallels between the two. He nods, then tilts his head, eyes narrowing at Derek. “And yours?”

Derek looks at Scott, who nods. He stares down at the table. “Alexander Argent.”

Chris sits very still for a moment, things in his brain rearranging themselves. Then he gets up and walks over to the cabinet, pulls out a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. No one says a word as he pours them all a drink and then he tosses his back after settling back down in his chair.

“So that's why Deucalion bit Uncle Alex,” he murmurs, “and why his mind fractured even more after Gerard blinded him.”

“We think when Ms. Blake healed his eyesight, she also healed his mind, and he remembered everything.”

Chris rubs his temples. “So, you and Peter are half-brothers, and you're my cousin.”

Derek just nods and drinks his whiskey grimly.

“Who knew my family could get _more_ fucked up?”

Scott looks at Derek and then at Chris, who looks between both sets of eyes as they're obviously waiting for something.

And then it hits him.

“ _Kate_...” he breathes, and Derek nods, looking green again.

“We're going to need more liquor.”

-

“I kind of prefer him like this.” Chris and Derek are staring down at Peter, waiting for the drugs to wear off. He's got to be conscious for Scott to be able to get into his mind.

“He was my best friend growing up,” Derek says, gaze faraway. “He just got more...eccentric over the years.”

Chris snorts and then glances up as Scott comes in, hair wet from his shower.

“You ready?”

Scott half-shrugs. “As I'll ever be, half-trained messing in the mind of someone who's been altered by an expert.”

“Two experts,” Derek puts in and Scott narrows his eyes.

“Not helpful, Bear.”

“...Bear?” Chris arches a brow.

The tips of Derek's ears flush and Scott flashes his grin. “Yup,” he says, popping the 'p' and then takes a deep breath. Chris opens the cage and then lock it behind him.

“Good luck,” he murmurs.

“I believe in you,” Derek whispers.

Scott crouches down, takes a deep breath and lets out a roar. Chris and Derek watch as Peter shifts and then turns his attention on Scott. Normally a beta is cowed by this point, but Peter is resisting, and he seems to be challenging Scott. Derek frowns.

“He shouldn't be acting like that,” he murmurs to Chris, who just shrugs.

“Who knows what pathways in his head have been altered?”

-

Inside Peter's head is a nightmarish landscape. Gloomy corridors spread out in all directions. The walls are black...and the doors are bleeding. All of them. Scott tentatively touches one, and he's immediately thrust into a memory.

_Looking up at Deaton on one side and Talia on the other._

_What's happening, he says, or tries to say, but there's something in his mouth. He moves his jaw experimentally and tastes the tang of metal. He struggles but the chains bind him. He reaches for his wolf but it gone. He can't feel his wolf. He's skating the edge of panic when he sees the syringe in the Emissary's hand. He doesn't feel the pinch of the needle but he knows when it happens, because fire is suddenly coursing through his veins. He screams but nothing but a croak comes out through the metal bit._

“ _It is working?” comes a third voice and he cranes his head to look because he knows that voice. Gerard Argent is peering down at him, head twisted as he watches the werewolf writhe._

It's the sight of Gerard that propels Scott out of Peter's memory and he has to take a minute to sit in the middle of the corridor and cover his face in his hands. He takes a few deep breaths before he gets back up.

Better prepared now, Scott puts both hands on the door, ignoring the rivulets of blood rushing along his arms, and fighting against the compulsion to fall into the memory again, he concentrates on fixing the door.

Grimly he walks up to the next one and repeats the procedure, doing his best to ignore the visions of Gerard, Talia, and/or Deaton doing other things to Peter that dance at the edges of his consciousness.

Scott rounds a corner and comes to a shockingly pristine hallway, bright white with steel doors, a marked contrast to the other areas of Peter's mind. He puts his hand on the lock, but he can't get any sense of what's behind it.

Scott puts his hand on the lock, and feels the sudden pain of a spike driving into his hand. He snarls and pulls it back, dripping blood on the floor. Where the drops hit, the white of the floor sizzles away, revealing the black underneath. Scot glances up at the door, squeezes his fist tight, and then smears blood across it. The blood hisses, and for a second he can see into some sort of storage room with miles of filing cabinets, and then the door reseals itself.

Scott has a sudden inspiration and smears his blood across the door again, but this time with intent, and when he steps back, the sign of the Alpha Pack – Peter's father's symbol – is smeared across the door. It works, and the steel fades away and Scott steps into a treasure trove of Hale Family secrets.

“You shouldn't be in here,” says a voice, and Scott turns on his heel to see Talia Hale standing in the open frame of the doorway, eyes glowing Alpha red.

He lets his eyes glow to match and lifts his chin. “I'm the Alpha now.”

The apparition steps closer, head tilted as her nostrils flare. “You must be my brother's bastard. What happened to my son?”

“My name is Scott McCall,” he says, “I'm not a Hale.”

“Of course you are,” Talia says arrogantly. “You have the Hale Alpha spark.”

“No,” Scott shakes his head. “I'm a True Alpha.”

Talia looks moderately amused. “So Alan went through with it after all. Which means that Rafael is still unaware. Excellent.” She steps forward. “Young man, I'm going to need to borrow your body.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the Rape/Non-Con gets worse. Spoilery notes at the end if you need to check and see if you want to proceed.

Chris and Derek are sort of half-dozing in their respective chairs as Scott's adventure into Peter's mind drags on into it's third hour. Nothing has happened for ages, and so neither of them really notices right away when Scott starts seizing. It's Peter's thrashing that gets their attention, after he's knocked the water bowl onto the floor with a loud crash.

Chris has his gun in his hands before his feet even hit the floor, and Derek's got his left arm wrapped around Scott's midsection, his other hand around Scott's wrist, trying to pull him back away from Peter.

“Anchor him, Derek!” shouts Chris as he attempts to hold Peter in place.

“I'm _trying_ ,” Derek snarls back, and for a few moments, there's what amounts to a wild brawl between the four of them, then something implodes between Scott and Peter, and they fly apart, taking their respective anchors with them.

Peter is the first to open his eyes, and they almost seem to be tinged red for a moment, but Chris blinks and when he opens his eyes back up, there's nothing but Peter's typical cerulean.

“I remember you,” Peter says softly, lifting his hand to touch Chris' cheek a moment. “You always were a beautiful boy.” And then his eyelids flutter a few times, then slide slowly shut.

Chris heaves him up onto the makeshift bed and gets him as comfortable as possible, before turning to Derek. The beta is rocking his Alpha in his arms, murmuring urgently something too low for Chris to hear. He watches them for a moment, and Chris takes a step forward, just about to rest his hand on Derek's shoulder when Scott suddenly flails and gasps, looks around with wide, terrified eyes.

“Scott?” Derek's voice has a tender tone to it that Chris has never heard him use before.

“Yeah. Yeah, Der,” Scott breathes. “I'm alright.”

Chris steps back as Scott disengages from Derek's arms and turns to stare down at Peter's prone body, before looking over his shoulder at Chris. “Keep an eye on him. I've got to go talk to my dad.”

Chris nods to Derek, who subsequently follows Scott out, and then settles down to watch Peter sleep. He's considering heading back upstairs to get something to eat when Peter finally stirs and then opens his eyes slowly. He rises gingerly, lifting his hands and looking at them, and then swiveling to stare at his reflection in the silver surface of the abandoned water dish, then looks up at Chris.

“Christopher,” he says softly, tilting his head and taking a step forward.

Peter's never called him anything but “Argent”, even when they were briefly kids together. He thinks it's nice they way Peter says it, soft and gentle, so unlike his previous sarcastic bitterness.

“Peter,” Chris says just as softly. “Peter, what do you remember?”

Peter looks around, finally noticing his surroundings. “This is not my house,” he says, eyes narrowing slightly.

“No,” Chris acknowledges, “your house is gone.”

Peter tilts his head, and the movement looks so much like Derek when he's confused that Chris might have smiled at it under different circumstances. “Christopher, what happened to my house?”

“You really don't remember, do you?” Chris sighs and rubs his forehead, thinking how badly this is going to go. “There was a fire...”

Peter goes very, very still. “A fire,” he repeats in a whisper, closing his eyes and setting his jaw. There's a long moment of silence where Chris is braced for the explosion he knows is coming, but Peter surprises him, calmly sits down on the makeshift bed and lifts those cerulean blues up to him. “Who survived? I don't feel any pack.”

Not for the first time, Chris wonders how that whole pack bond thing works. He drags his chair closer, into the confines of the cage and settles down heavily. “Derek. Cora. You.” He doesn't mention Laura. Perhaps it's better if Peter doesn't recall any of that.

“I'm an omega,” Peter says with an odd twist to his voice that Chris can't quite place. “I've never been alone before.” He stares unblinking at Chris a few minutes while the hunter tries to figure out what to say, but before he can come up with anything, Peter's falling to his knees in front of Chris, looking up.

Chris would have bet everything he had that Peter Hale wouldn't get on his knees for anyone, but there he is, hands settling on Chris' thigh as he leans forward between them.

“Christopher,” Peter says, eyes shiny with un-shed tears. “I don't like being alone.”

Chris starts to say something about Derek, about Scott's pack, but Peter is suddenly surging upward and crushing his lips into Chris'. Chris stiffens and then pulls back.

“Please, Christopher,” Peter says, “I need to feel alive.”

Chris knows exactly that feeling, has jumped into countless beds with the nearest warm body after surviving something traumatic. It's even _expected_ among hunters, and he can't really fault Peter for it. Especially this Peter who's reacting like a normal person would, this Peter who wasn't damaged by burning alive, by feeling his entire pack die, this truer more _real_ Peter.

Peter leans in to kiss him again, and this time it's softer, more tentative, and this time, Chris leans into it, slides a hand around the back of Peter's head and holds the wolf close for a lingering, exploring kiss. Peter's lips curve in a bit of a smirk that remind Chris of the old Peter.

“Bedroom?” he says a bit breathlessly, and Chris grins, rising from his chair to lead the way.

-

“Dad, you here?” Scott pushes through the door of his house with Derek in tow, brow furrowed because Scott won't tell him _anything_.

“Scott?” Rafael sits up on the couch, clad in nothing but sweatpants, hair awry. He's obviously been napping. “What's wrong?”

“Dad, this is Derek Hale.” Rafael's gaze shifts to Derek, who perches on the edge of a chair across from the couch. “He's got some questions for you.”

“Derek,” Rafael nods. “What can I do for you?”

Scott meanders around the back of the couch as Derek opens his mouth and then shuts it again. “Uh..”

He doesn't get any further, because Scott's flicking out his claws and plunging them into the back of Rafael's neck in one fluid motion.

“Scott!” Derek leaps to his feet in surprise and takes a step froward, but what's done is done, and he eventually realizes that, sinking back into his seat and watching them in silence. It's maybe fifteen minutes until Scott pulls his hand away from his father with a pained gasp, wiping them off the back of the man's shirt.

“Well?” Derek demands after watching Scott lift Rafael and drag him into the kitchen without saying a word.

Scott looks up. “This man is not my father,” he says grimly, and then lifts both the man and a bottle of beer, judges trajectories, and then drops the bottle to the floor with a crash. Derek wrinkles his nose and sneezes at the sudden strong scent that fills the air, and then closes his eyes as Scott lays Rafael precisely, pressing a large piece of glass into the wound at his neck.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“He got drunk again,” Scott says flatly as he surveys the scene, “dropped a bottle and then fell on it.”

Derek has several protests, but Scott just brushes past him and reaches for the phone. “You'd better go keep an eye on Uncle Peter,” he says as he's dialing 911, “I'll meet you there later and explain.”

-

Chris strips quickly as Peter stretches out shamelessly on the bed, and the hunter somehow knew that he'd be an exhibitionist, and his hands roam over himself. Chris can't get over there fast enough and replace Peter's hands with his. He's gratified to see that Peter's already hard as a rock, and lightly curls his hand around the wolf's dick, stroking a few times while he nips softly at Peter's neck.

Peter's oddly tentative and so Chris finds himself taking the lead on everything, a position he's not often found himself in. He finds he likes it.

Chris shifts Peter onto his side and reaches for the bottle on the bedside table, slicking up two fingers as Peter watches over his shoulder. The wolf's head falls back as Chris slides his fingers down the valley between Peter's parted cheeks, and he gasps as the slick fingers circle the furled muscle of his hole. Chris glances up to make sure Peter's okay, only to see those eyes slide away and he half-shrugs. “I didn't know it would be that sensitive,” Peter mutters, and Chris has a sudden revelation.

“Is this your first time, Peter?”

Peter shrugs a shoulder, and his eyes are strangely opaque as he lifts them back to Chris. “I have never done _this_ before.”

“Shit,” Chris sighs, “I should have – ”

“No, Christopher,” Peter shakes his head. “It's good. Don't stop.”

Chris suppresses a chuckle at the arrogant tone to the order. He guesses there's some of the old Peter in there after all.

Peter shifts impatiently and so Chris slides a finger into him slowly, grabbing Peter's wrist with his free hand when Peter reaches down to stroke himself. “Oh no you don't,” he says, “You have to wait for me.”

The wolf grumbles a bit sulkily and then demands that Chris get a move on. Chris' only answer is to pull his single finger free, and then push two back inside. He turns slightly and then feels the tiny little kernel inside that he's been looking for, pressing his fingers into it as Peter's eyes fly wide open.

“Yeah...That's _good_ , isn't it Peter?” Chris grins. “Just wait until I'm fucking into it.”

Peter looks dubious, but he's convinced a few moment's later when the thick head of Chris' cock slides against it for the first time. A stream of profanity spills from Peter's lips as Chris fucks him slowly and thoroughly, keeping Peter's wrists pinned above his head.

Only once he's close to the edge does Chris let go of the wolf, moving his hand down to Peter's cock, stroking in time to his thrusts. Peter comes a few seconds later, crying out in surprise as his orgasm hit hard, spurting come across Chris' hand.

Peter's reaction sends Chris into his own finish, and he grunts a few times as he spills inside the wolf. Both of them gasp softly as Chris pulls free.

The hunter is surprised when Peter turns in his place and nestles close, resting his head on Chris' chest, just over his heart. He would have never guessed the wolf to be a cuddler.

-

Derek's sitting on the trunk of his car in front of Argent's home when Scott gets there.

“Where's Chris?” he says as he climbs off his bike.

Derek makes a disgusted face. “Upstairs fucking my un – er, brother.”

Scott blinks and then takes off running towards the door. Derek hops down and follows in confusion.

“Scott, what's wrong?”

The Alpha pauses as he bursts into the bedroom just in time to see Peter's claws pull out of Chris' neck, the wolf's eyes glowing red. Instead of answering Derek, Scott extends his claws as his gaze goes crimson to match.

“Hello again, Talia.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talia takes over Peter's body and has sex with Chris.  
> Scott invades Rafael's mind without permission.


	4. Chapter 4

“Aw, crap.” The Sheriff eyes the tableau before him, and pushes a button on his cell. “Hey there... Yeah, I'm going to need you to come to Chris Argent's house.”

He's standing outside the front door when Stiles gets there, just points upstairs, then follows his son to Chris Argent's bedroom.

Stiles furrows a brow, then lifts a hand. The blood that's flung everywhere starts to glow with a red light, and then it separates into four different colors. “Three werewolves, one human,” Stiles says after a minute. He frowns and then takes a step back, reaches out his hand for his father's. “Gonna need some help,” he says softly, and the Sheriff nods.

He's not really grasped this idea of being a magical conduit, but apparently, he'd been one for years with Claudia, so opening himself up to his son comes naturally to him. He doesn't feel anything, but from experience knows how tired he'll be, and so he sits in the chair and waits for Stiles to be finished.

Stiles pulls magical energy from his father and then begins his spell, incanting into the air at some length.

When he stops, the Sheriff feels suddenly exhausted, and slump back in his seat as Stile watches something that only he can see. He helpfully narrates for his father.

“Okay, so Peter and Chris are getting it on, but Peter's acting very odd – oh fuck.”

“What is it, Stiles?”

“His eyes are red, he's an alpha.” Stiles voice is worried. “Anyway, they're still fucking and – oh hey, who knew Peter was a cuddler? Anyway, they're wrapped around each other then – Shit, Peter's claws are in Chris' neck.”

The Sheriff turns and tries to see what Stiles is seeing in the evidence left behind.

“Chris passes out, and here comes Scott. He and Derek are fighting Peter. Who is kicking their ass by the way. Asshole always said he couldn't – Holy fuck.”

“What, Stiles?” His father grasps his sleeve.

Stiles turns to look down at him. “That's not Peter.”

-

Talia hisses as the silver knife slides across her – Peter's – skin. “How much blood do you need?” she grumbles as Alan turns her wrist to let it bleed into a bowl.

“As much as it takes,” he replies calmly, then turns to the prone Chris Argent and repeats the maneuver.

Talia watches him as she settles to the ground, Peter's body weakening with the blood loss. “Will it kill him?” she asks softly.

“Perhaps,” is all she gets from Alan.

-

“Scott! Scotty!” Stiles exclaims happily as he finds his friend, curled around Derek partway into the wood, in a clearing. “What's going on?”

“Talia,” Scott mutters darkly. “She's been fucking with all of us for a long time now.”

Meanwhile, the Sheriff crouches to look at Derek's wounds. “Isn't he supposed to heal?” he asks quietly.

“Talia's an Alpha,” Stiles explains. “Betas like Derek don't heal from Alpha wounds as easily.”

“I don't understand,” Stiles' father complains. “How is Peter actually Talia?”

Stiles rests his hand over Derek's abdomen and chants softly.

Scott watches as he crouches next to the Sheriff.

“Talia hid herself in Peter's mind during the fire. How, I have no idea.”

“So, her body burned, but she stayed alive?”

“Basically, and I guess she expected Peter, as her first-born, to become the Alpha next.”

The Sheriff blinks. “Wait, he's _what_?”

“It gets better,” Scott says grimly, and then his attention turns to Derek as he gasps and sits up. “Peter is Talia's son by Deucalion. Derek is Talia's son by an Argent. And I'm – ” he turns to look at Stiles with a grimace. “I'm Talia's nephew.”

“You're Derek's _cousin_?” Stiles says incredulously, looking between the both of them.

“Yeah,” Scott sighs, while Derek sets his jaw.

“How do you know all this?” The Sheriff is still confused.

“I was in her head,” Scott explains. “She has a little hiding place in Peter's mind, where she'd retreat any time Peter needed to be in charge of his body, when she thought she might be at risk of being caught out. And when Peter's in charge of his body, he's only a beta.”

“he must have figured something out and trapped her one of those times,” Stiles murmurs in thought.

“That's what I figured, too,” Scott nods. “I had to open the trap from the outside with Alpha blood.”

“Alpha blood is the key to – ” Stiles eyes open wide as he finishes, “ – any kind of soul spells.”

“And she's got a whole body full of it,” Scott nods.

“We've got to find her now,” Stiles grits out, helping Derek to his feet.

“But then who is Laura and Cora's father?” The Sheriff is still working on the mental map of the family tree.

“Cora's actually my full sister,” Scott shrugs. “No idea about Laura.”

“Wait, Melissa – ”

Scott's face goes very dark. “Talia's going to pay for what she's done to my mother.”

“So she had no idea?”

Scott shakes his head. “She's always thought Rafael was my father, and I'm pretty sure Talia took all memory of Cora away from both of them.”

“I still don't understand _why_ ,” the Sheriff complains.

“Only Talia knows that.”

-

Peter's eyes flutter open blearily. He can see his big sister in the arms of – the veterinarian? – on the other side of a merrily burning campfire, and the smell of blood wafting across his nostrils. His own, yes, and another. With difficulty, he turns his head to see someone – his mate? – lying prone nearby, blood sluggishly leaking from his veins.

Peter manages to drag himself closer, _his body's all wrong_ , and he licks at the wounds trying to help them heal. It's not working, and he feels like there's some knowledge that's just escaping him, and then he hears the smug tones of Talia above him.

“Aw, isn't that adorable,” she croons, and then Peter feels the bite of her claws digging into his neck.

Peter _shatters_.

-

“We're too late,” the Sheriff says grimly as they burst into the clearing where the burned Hale family members had been buried. Talia's grave is open, there's a bonfire burnt down to a few glowing coals, and Chris Argent is lying there, covered in blood.

Derek just freezes and looks around in disbelief. “What _happened_ here?”

“Deaton resurrected Talia.” Stiles is reading the magical energy at the scene.

“But _why_?” Derek is so beyond baffled.

Stiles shrugs and then turns as Scott gasps. “They're still alive. I can hear both their heartbeats.”

Everyone goes over and looks at the prone man with the black wolf laying across him. Which growls as the Sheriff tries to ease closer.

“Settle down, boy,” Stiles murmurs, which earns him a sharper growl from the wolf.

“Peter,” Derek whispers and Scott nods, flashes his Alpha eyes at the wolf, whose eyes shine blue in response.

“Yeah, it's Peter.” Scott manages to force the wolf to move away so that they can look at Chris' wounds, only to find that they're healing rapidly.

“That's not supposed to happen,” Derek opines, then glances at Stiles. “Is it?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Dude, I have no idea.”

Chris groans, and their attention all goes to him as he opens his eyes. “Peter...”

The wolf whines and creeps forward, presses his nose into the palm of Chris' hand.

“Peter.” The ghost of a smile flits across Chris' face, and then his eyes flutter closed again.

“Well,” the Sheriff says after a long moment of silence. “You'd better get these two home. I'll call Parrish and get this scene cleaned up.”

Scott nods and lifts Chris, while Derek and Peter trail him.

Stiles watches them go and then turns to his dad.

“And I'm going to find a way to track down Deaton and Talia.”

-

Chris wakes up in his own bed, with the soft warm of a furry body curled up next to him, eyes glowing blue in the darkness.

“Peter?” he says softly, and the wolf blinks once, then closes his eyes and settles back down to sleep.

Chris takes a deep breath, and then shrugs and curls back up around his wolf.

 

 


End file.
